Blacksmith of Legends
by Calikarcha
Summary: When a commoner discovers he has a powerful talent for blacksmithing and experimenting, what will happen when he draws attention of royalty?
1. Chapter 1

**Once more my friends, the time has come. I write the first chapter of stories, if I really enjoy it (As I did this one) I may write the second, or even further. But, you all have my permission to use this as a challenge of sorts. All you need to do is state that the idea came from me, you don't even need to do that its just kindness really. There will be more at the end! FEAR NOT.**

* * *

At the age of eight, Irik discovered his weapon. As a blacksmith's son, he grew up all around weapons and armour, so had a basic grounding in all of them. He wasn't particularly good, mind you. He was a highly skilled blacksmith, rivalling the skill of Thobo Mott, when smithing weapons, yet not armour.

Irik was walking through the grain fields an hour away from Kings Landing when the farmers and himself were set upon by Bandits. Seeing none of the convention weapons he knew how to use in sight, he grabbed one of the scythe's which were made to cut grain from the ground and used that as a weapon. Later that night, he did some experimenting in the forge.

Now I know what you are thinking, oh reader of mine. "But he is only eight". Well, have you ever seen a blacksmith, they're huge, and as the son of a blacksmith, he was well muscled.

Irik hammered away at his steel when a sudden impulse hit him. He folded the steel he was hammering to try and make the steel denser. It worked.

Over the next three days, he built himself a scythe to use in a fight, with a collapsible handle made of folded steel, so he could use the bar to block. The handle was nearly a metre long, from the butt to the start of the blade. The blade itself was detachable, yet once it was on the pole, it stayed on. The blade was curved like a crescent moon, and stretched thirty five inches, or 90cm long if you measure along the curve.

Later, he would discover how to change the colour of the metal during the forging process, similar to the legendary blade 'Dawn'.

After polishing the blade for so long that the it shone like a star, and dying the pole pitch black, Irik's scythe was ready.

For the next five years, Irik trained extremely hard. He would train with the gold cloak guards in the city watch for five hours a day, while five more hours were used to practice his blacksmithing. His skill in the smithy was legendary, he knew how to reshape Valyrian steel, and had his own theories on how to make it. He made swords for the Kingsguard of Aerys, blades for high lords, and his pride and joy, besides his scythe, was the forging of Prince Rhaegar's blade.

*Flashback boysss*

Irik was experimenting on colouring steel. Since his fathers death two years ago, the eleven year old boy lived only with his mother, and spent the days forging steel to keep his home.

Irik had a few theories, and decided to test creating a purple blade. He went out that morning, and collected a dozed purple flowers from the fields around Kings Landing, crushed them into paste, and mixed them with a small amount of water to make a purple dye.

Irik heated the steel for the blade, and started shaping, not noticing the amused royalty behind him. Once the molten steel was shaped correctly, he allowed the metal to begin cooling, and poured the dye over the slowing cooling metal. When both sides of the blade were coloured purple, he thrust the sword into the barrel of water to cool it completely.

Irik sat down with his back to the door, still not seeing the now intrigued prince behind him, and waited roughly a minute, before pulling the vibrant purple blade from the barrel and laughing like a madman. He placed the blade down on the bench and attached a handle to his new purple sword, and sat down.

Clearing his throat, Rhaegar looked at the boy a few years younger than him curiously. He had been watching the boy practice his fighting with the scythe, and he was highly skilled. After hearing rumour of the boys skill as a bladesmith, he hunted the forge down to commission his blade as was his right as prince of the seven kingdoms.

Irik, hearing the throat clearing, turned around and saw Rhaegar. He was slightly shocked, so he stared at the prince for a moment, before dropping into a bow at the waist and saying "Welcome to my humble little blacksmith Prince Rhaegar, what can I do for you?" Irik asked with a smile on his face.

Rhaegar grinned at the boy, who grinned back at him. Rhaegar decided that he liked him, he didn't try to kiss up to him, just treated him exactly how he would any other customer, as he always asked people to do. "I originally came to commission a blade, but after seeing your little show just now, I think I would like to be slightly more involved in the creation of my blade if you would allow it." Rhaegar finished with a cheerful smile.

Irik had always liked Rhaegar. He treated the people well, both common and nobles, he respected everyone for something, whether it be their political cunning, skill with a blade or their determination to survive, he always saw the best in people. After he heard what the kind prince wanted, Irik grinned back and said "Ahh, saw that did you? Oh well, come to the back, would you mind if I did something im experimenting with to determine the size of your blade? I'm working on currently tailoring blades to people, not the other way around."

Rhaegar nodded excitedly, he never found a blade that was the perfect length for him, it was either to long or too short. He followed Irik to the back where he the smith kept his failed experiments and his notes for better steel.

Irik pulled out a long piece of wood and had Rhaegar hold our his arm, and marked the length on the plank of wood. Repeating this for his other arm, his leg, and from waist to throat, he laid them all down on the table, and did a small amount of numbers. After a few moments, he grabbed another piece of wood and cut it into a rough sword and handed it to Rhaegar and asked "Is that a good length for you?"

Rhaegar grabbed the hilt of the wooden blade and held it out to test it. It felt right. He grinned and tossed it back to Irik the Blacksmith and said "It's perfect. Can I ask, what is this room normally used for?" he questioned curiously.

Irik just chuckled and replied "All my failed experiments and notes. I'm trying to recreate Valyrian steel, and I have an idea about it, but not the means to try."

Rhaegar just looked at him shocked and replied excitedly, "That's incredible! You say you do not have the means? Do I? As a Prince of the seven kingdoms, I have access to more resources than you do." He questions.

Irik chuckled. "Do you have access to a dragon, Rhaegar? My theory is more heat, and dragonfire is the hottest of all the fires. If I used flame from a dragon to heat the forge, I could possibly forge Valyrian steel, but nothing is anywhere near as hot as dragonfire." Irik finished sadly.

Rhaegar froze at the mention of dragonfire. His father was obsessed with the dragons, and believed that when he died he would turn into a dragon. He had recently charged the alchemist guild with recreating dragonfire. Maybe that would work…

Rhaegar's eyes flickered with thought as looked into Irik's eyes and just told him "Il be back in about half an hour, and I may be able to help." And he ran off before Irik answered.

When Rhaegar jumped on his horse, Ser Barristan turned to him and asked "Has he begun your blade yet?"

Rhaegar just flashed an excited grin at him and replied "Nope, we are experimenting." Ser Barristan just sighed exasperatedly at his friends curiousity and excitement as the pair rode towards the red keep.

Rhaegar charged into his fathers office and said "Father, I need a small container of wildfire, it's very important."

Aeyrs, excited that his son may be joining him in his fire fascination, handed him three jars without question.

Rhaegar walked back outside with the three jars in a cloth bag, protecting them from the sun. Ignoring Ser Barristan's questioning gaze, they rode back to the smith where Irik was waiting for Rhaegar.

"Irik my friend, I come bearing gifts and materials for your experimentation." Rhaegar proclaimed and chuckled as Irik's eyebrows rose at his statement.

The three walked inside and Irik cleared everything away from the forge and turned to Rhaegar and asked "What materials may that be, my friend?. Please do note I will be using your sword as an experiment for this." Irik asked amused with his new friends excitement.

Rhaegar walked over to a table, far away from the now dead forge and pulled out the three ceramic containers of wildfire and placed them on the table.

Irik's eyebrows rose and Ser Barristan paled and said "Are you sure Rhaegar? I don't know if this is a good idea."

Hearing Ser Barristan's statement, Irik turned to the jars and opened one to look inside. When Rhaegar saw the grin on his friends face, and could feel the gears in the genius smith's head turning.

Irik rushed over to the barrel of water and poured it over the hot coals to cool them completely. He pumped the gallows for a few minutes solid to dry them to ensure nothing would contaminate his experiment. Ignoring the two pairs of eyes on him, one of which were concerned, while one were both excited and curious, he grabbed two of the three jars of wildfire and poured them on the dry and cold coals.

He ushered the two away from the forge, grabbed a match and threw it on the coals. The bright green flames reached the ceiling.

Irik turned to the Ser Barristan and asked "Would you please go and fill that barrel with water? This might take a while." Barristan nodded and went to fill the barrel. Irik turned to Rhaegar and said "Could you please go and grab a half dozen steel ingots? Il melt them in the wildfire and then reshape the steel." Rhaegar nodded.

When he returned, Irik ignored the heat and dropped the six ingots in the green flames and started pumping the gallows for more heat.

Ten minutes of melting and reshaping later, there was a large blob of Valyrian steel to be shaped.

By the time Barristan got back from filling the barrel, Irik was on his fourth fold of the smoky black steel with a few red strips. Irik grabbed the blade and thrust it into the barrel of water for a few moments.

The pair of excieted teenagers turned to Barristan and just shouted "It worked!" Together and started dancing.

After three minutes of the blade cooling, he pulled it out. The sword was a beautiful black and red sword of two and a half feet long, currently without a handle. Next, Irik made a beautiful pure white steel handle with six rubies, one of each of the four sides of the bottom of the handle, and one on both sides of the blade in the middle of the hilt. Finally, Irik took the soon to be legendary sword and sharpened it until he could shave his face perfectly and polished to mirror point.

Irik grinned at his creation and handed the blade handle first to the awe filled prince. "Such a beautiful sword will need a name, my friend. What will you call her?"

Rhaegar, at the age of sixteen, dubbed what would come to be one of the most legendary swords in history, The Black Fang.

*Flashback end*

Irik was riding alongside Rhaegar within the royal company. They were all on the way to a tourney in Harranhall and were almost there. Irik didn't know why, but he felt like something was wrong, going to happen. He was nervous.

By the time he was in the melee preparing to fight, the feeling only grew stronger.

Irik pulled out his recently made Valyrian steel scythe, the pole was pitch black while the blade was blood red. He figured since he was living under Targaryen rule, Targaryen colours, y'know?

Irik was fighting in the melee, while Rhaegar was deciding to joust. He had always been good at jousting, far better than Irik, who was superior to him in melee fighting.

"Begin!" The announcer roared and the melee began. Irik started weaving through the other fighters with his black and red scythe, knocking his enemies down and knocking them out. Soon enough, there were only three fighters left, Thoros of Myr with his flaming sword, Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard, and Irik, the blacksmith. The audience was rather surprised that the legendary blacksmith who forges weapons of legends could use one.

The final fight lasted a total of four minutes between the three of us. Thoros and Barristan just started to fight and ignore Irik, it was rather amusing if not insulting.

Irik thrusted the long of his blade forward and made both jump over the blade, as he expected. Once they landed again, he pulled the blade towards himself and slammed the butt of the pole into Thoros head, knocking him unconscious.

Irik started swinging his scythe against Barristan, who was hard pressed to block against the length of the blade, not that he could as the force behind it would knock him over. The movements Irik made were fluid, one moving into the next so to leave to openings for Barristan to take advantage of while he slowly pushed him back. Irik kept the attack towards the chest and abdomen, for the entire fight, until he suddently dropped to his knees and swung, slamming the pole of his scythe against the back of Barristans knees, knocking him onto his back. By the time Barristan looked up, the blade of a scythe was at his throat, while his sword was impailed in the sand.

"Yield?" Irik asked cheeky and excited, and his words were heard by the entire crowd who had gone silent. The fourteen year old crafter of legendary weapons had just used a legendary weapon, to defeat a legendary warrior, who used one of the legendary weapons smithed by the crafter. Confusing, huh?

Barristan looked rather shocked that I could fight. "I Yield. I'm rather impressed Irik."

Irik pulled the scythe tip away from Barristan's throat, and held out a hand to help Barristan to his feet.

Irik turned to the crowd and took a short, yet slightly mocking, bow to the silent crowd who looked shocked at the fourteen year old who defeated one of the greatest swordsmen in Westeros, who was also lord commander of the Kingsguard. He turned to where Rhaegar was sitting, and smirking, and gave him a grin and a wink.

The day after, was the jousting. Rhaegar was competing in the finals, where he unseated Ser Barristan.

Irik watched as he received the crown of roses, and rode towards his wife, yet rode past her and named Lyanna Stark the queen of love and beauty.

Irik went pale at the sight of his best friend slighting Ellia Martel, his wife, and by extension all of Dorne. He knew of his best friends foolish ambitions about Aegon the Conqueror reborn. Irik told Rhaegar to give up on his foolishness, but he wouldn't, and now Rhaegar had jumpstarted something he could not stop. War would come to Westeros.

Irik returned to his tent and waited for Rhaegar to enter. When he came in, followed by Barristan, Irik grabbed him by the arm and threw him onto the cushions on the floor, ignoring Barristan grabbing his blade.

"Are you mad Rhaegar, do you know what you have just done?" Irik hissed in anger, shocking Rhaegar. He had never seen his best friend angry before, and it terrified him.

Ignoring Rhaegar's terror, he pushed on "You have just slighted all of Dorne, because you crowned Lyanna instead of your wife. While it may warm the North to you, it will anger Dorne when they find out. You just told them that your wife is not beautiful enough for you, you fool. It does not matter where you move from this point, as many of the paths will lead to a war." Irik finished enraged, shocking Barristan also, as he had not thought of that. Irik stood and walked from the tent, off to find someone to spar against.

When Irik found out what Rhaegar had done, kidnapping Lyanna Stark, he was even angrier. He was pacing in the forge, muttering to himself "Does the fool want a war? Or is he so wrapped up in his dream of Aegon reborn that he does not see he will tear Westeros apart?"

Irik was broken from his musings when Ser Arthur Dayne of Starfall entered the forge. He turned to the Kingsguard and asked "Please tell me he did not kidnap her, tell me she came voluntarily, tell me she informed her father and brothers, tell me my best friend didn't just start a war throughout all of Westeros!" Irik started quietly and camly and finished roaring in anger, throwing his forge hammer across the room.

When Arthur did not reply, Irik just looked at him and said "I'm leaving. I do not wish to watch my best friend tear the country apart in his madness, and when Kings Landing is sacked, I do not wish to receive a blade in my throat."

Arthur nodded sadly and said his goodbyes.

Irik started packing away all of his higher quality items, notes and experiments, leaving not a trace of any secrets of his. Within two hours, Barristan and Rhaegar were at his door. Irik glared at Rhaegar and resumed packing his things.

"What are you doing my friend? Why are you leaving?" Rhaegar asked happily yet confused.

Irik snapped his head towards the ignorant prince, stalked forward angrily and punched him in the face. "You have completely lost your mind Rhaegar. You just started a war that you can not win, and have decided the fate of everyone in Kings Landing who does not leave before the war kicks off. I am not going to wait around to receive a sword in my throat in the sack of Kings Landing after I hear about you being killed. I will live, and since you are not the Rhaegar I forged that blade for, I will not fight beside you in a war you have started in your madness." Irik hissed at his friend, who was shocked.

Rhaegar was confused "What are you talking about, starting a war?"

"You, kidnapping Lyanna Stark. In that one move, you have started a war. The North, Vale, Riverlands, and Stormlands will fight against you, and you just gave them all a perfect reason. The Brandon Stark, Ned Stark and Benjen Stark will fight to get their sister back. Jon Arryn will follow Ned Stark, who is to take over as lord of the Vale when he dies. The Riverlands will follow Brandon Stark and Ned Stark because the two Tully daughters are betrothed to them. The Stormlands will follow Robert Baratheon, as you just KIDNAPPED HIS BETROTHED!" Irik roared in his face. "I am leaving before I have my throat cut, and I suggest that if you are intending to follow through with your little delusion, you let Elia, Rhaenys and Rhaella leave as well. They do not deserve to die for your foolish delusions." Irik finished calmly.

Irik put a lid on the second crate and began filling the third when he heard Rhaegar and Barristan leave his forge. When he had finished the fourth crate, he heard the door open once more, and turned to see Rhaenys, Elia and Rhaella.

Irik dropped to his knees and was slammed into by little Rhaenys who was crying. Irik wrapped his arms around the little girl and stood up, and smiled sadly at Elia and Rhaella over her shoulder. "Summon the spider" Irik mouthed to the older women, who nodded in reply.

* * *

 **I made a few mistakes towards the end, but I love the concept of this story. I was trying to decide on a pairing, and was looking at Irik/Rhaeneys, but that was just too creepy, even for me. Maybe Arianne, but she is younger than Rhaeneys. Anyway, Thanks everyone!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello. Isn't this odd. Yes, that's right my fanatic fans, A second chapter for Blacksmith of Legends. I know, I said not to expect another chapter, but I got so many people asking for another one, that I had to. So, tadaaaa.**

 **Please leave review after this and tell me how you think I did. I personally feel like I did terrible, but that's not for me to judge.**

* * *

 _Previously:_

 _Irik dropped to his knees and was slammed into by little Rhaenys who was crying. Irik wrapped his arms around the little girl and stood up, and smiled sadly at Elia and Rhaella over her shoulder. "Summon the spider" Irik mouthed to the older women, who nodded in reply._

 _Now:_

It was near thirty minutes later that Varys arrived in the blacksmith shop.

"Master Irik" Varys spoke as he sat down in the chair across from Irik, who had a sleeping Rhaenys on his lap.

"Lord Varys. How are you? Little birds chirping?" Irik asked kindly.

Varys returned his smile and responded "Not a lord, Master Irik, but thank you. Yes, my birds chirps forever more. What did you summon me for?" Varys finished curiously.

Frowning slightly, Irik began "I need to get out of Westeros. There is a war coming, as I am sure you have figured, and I will not receive a sword through my throat because my friend was obsessed with his little prophecy. I need to get a small group of people, optimistically six, across the sea and into a safe house in one of the cities there I need to move Rhaella, Rhaenys, Elia, Viserys, Aegon and Myself, but I doubt that Viserys will want to leave Aerys, nor Rhaegar let Elia as she is with child." Irik finished sadly. Varys too was sympathetic, but agreed that it was likely to only be three people moving across the sea.

"Do you have any preferences for cities in Essos?" Varys asked in his usual soft voice.

Irik frowned thoughtfully, and was silent for a few moments before he responded "Not really, I'd prefer one of the free cities, and lots of space for a home. As there will likely be children, that requires space, and I'd like to build myself a forge to continue creating weapons. So perhaps Lorath would work?" He finished thoughtfully.

Varys nodded slightly, "I do have contacts in Lorath so I can keep you up to date on the latest news. Very well, I will begin organising passage for six to Lorath." Varys said.

* * *

Irik was standing on the deck of the ship that would take Rhaenys, Rhaella and himself to Lorath, as no one else was able to sneak away to join them. Elia was too close to giving birth to travel by sea, and Viserys as far too loyal to Aerys to want to leave.

As the ship was about to sail, Rhaegar approached Irik.

"Because you so firmly believe that there will be war, when everything blows over you will come back with mother and Rhaenys." Rhaegar spoke firmly. There was no one else he would trust with this. He didn't think there would be war, but Irik did. So, he would humour him.

Irik responded. "And when you get your chest caved in by Robert Baratheons hammer, I'll give your sword to Rhaenys."

As the three of them left port, with Rhaenys sitting on Irik's lap asleep, they all knew that this would be a grand adventure for them.

* * *

It had been four years since they had left Kings Landing and the start of the rebellion, and Irik was content. Not happy, not sad, just content.

Four months after they arrived in Lorath in their home that Vary acquired for them, Rhaella died giving birth to a little girl, Daenerys.

Over the next four years, Irik expanded his home and added a forge and training ground to test his forged weapons, and train his skill.

His home had three servants and five guards. They weren't slaves, they got paid and lived with the family in return for their service. He would train his scythe against his five guards, who he created weapons for.

Over the past years they lived in Lorath, he occasionally got paid an obscene amount to create weapons for people, from lords, to magisters, to slavers. His weapons costs more than a small coin, enough to bankrupt some of the poorer families.

His first requisition was a pair of combat axes, of Valyrian Steel, for the Greyjoy heir, Rodrik. His payment was four ships, two built for carrying cargo, and the other two for defending them as well as two hundred and fifty thousand gold dragons.

His second was a highly decorative glaive for Oberyn Martell, the red viper, who became a good friend to Irik and uncle to Rhaenys. He got paid one million dragons, as the blade was a yellow Valyrian Steel, and was the staff. The staff was covered in a decorative dark orange wood, with a vine design wrapping around it to stop his hand from slipping too much.

The third request was a grey bastard sword for the Sealord of Bravos, nothing particularly special, but it earned him seven hundred and fifty thousand gold dragons.

His fourth was a hand and a half sword for House Tyrell, with a pale blue blade, which earned him another million dragons.

His requisitions averaged him around once a year. But not all was good. The new king, Robert Baratheon, had sent assassins to his home, as it was known he had Rhaenys, but no one knew that Rhaella had died giving birth.

After half a dozen assassins, you would think that Robert had figured that no one would get in, but no. Every half a year, as the frequency was increasing, there would be an attempt. Some were subtle, a blade between the ribs at the market, while some were not, such as trying to cave in the roof of his forge when Rhaenys came in.

Irik sighed at the thought of more assassins targeting his strange little family, and pulled out some parchment and a fountain pen. He had a letter to write.

* * *

Robert Baratheon was in a bad mood, and wanted wine. His assassins that he was sending after the Dragonspawn kept failing. He had nothing against the legendary blacksmith, far from it as he wanted the man to make him a hammer. Yet, the man was hiding the Dragonspawn, so he had to die.

He was sitting in his office and bedroom reliving the memory of crushing Rhaegar's breastplate when he was interrupted with a knock on his door.

"Come in." He said loudly. The door opened admitting Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard. "What is it, Ser Barristan?" He asked. Despite what people might think, he was quite fond of the old man, he had balls.

"Your grace, you are being summoned to the small council meeting, it seems important." Barristan spoke. He missed Irik, but was glad the he escaped when he could.

Robert sighed deeply and stood up. He may have only been king for four years, but he hated it already. He hated his wife. He hated the little shit, Joffrey. He just wanted a reason to fight.

As Robert and Barristan entered the small council chambers, everyone in the room was silent. The all were looking around awkwardly, avoiding looking at the innocent letter in the middle of the table.

Robert sat down with Barristan sitting next to the door and asked "What is it?" He said gruffly.

Varys cleared his throat and spoke "Your grace, Grand Maester Pycelle received this letter in a small box when a shipment of cloth came in from Lorath, and it would seem to be from the Blacksmith, Irik."

Robert looked at the letter and then at Varys and asked "If the letter came in a box, where is the box?" He asked gruffly.

The grand maester spoke next. "Your grace, the box was kept by the guards as it contained six daggers of higher quality."

Robert reached into the middle of the table and grabbed the letter to read it.

After he finished the letter, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and said "I don't know whether or not to be amused, insulted or both."

"Your grace?" Varys asked.

" _Dear King Bobby and the tall council._

 _This letter is in a box containing the six daggers of the assassins you have sent after me. I hope you understand that your assassins are failing, and will stop trying._

 _King Bobby, I understand that you killed Rhaegar, and that's understandable and I hold no quarrel with you, but I would ask for his sword back, as it was the first sword I made out of my strange steel that people seem to think is Valyrian Steel. It's quite sentimental._

 _The master of coin, Middlefinger? Littlepecker? Not that it matters. Please stop sending me letters asking for money, it's not working._

 _Hand of the King, Don Harry, I'm impressed with your skill at running the seven kingdoms, as it is quite obvious that Bobby isn't doing it. I asked Balon Greyjoy, Oberyn Martell and Mace Tyrell when they came to me for weapons, and they all agreed it was you, even if they were rather sullen about admitting your skill._

 _Ser Barry Belby, I've missed you my old friend. How is your sword working? Still swinging? If you need anything, send me a raven and I'l help if I can._

 _Gong Monster Whitebeard, I hope your knees don't get too injured by your balls as they swing into them while you walk._

 _Master of Whispers, Harris, Your little birds chat both ways._

 _I hope you enjoyed this letter, and I hope that Bobby will send me back the Black Fang if he has it._

 _Irik the Badass."_

The small council chambers were silent until Robert boomed out a loud laugh, shocking everyone in the room.

Barristan shook his head in amusement. That was pure Irik.

"Varys, send him a letter back telling him that he can buy the sword back for two million gold dragons if he wants it so badly." Robert said, and with that he stood and left the room while chuckling in amusement.

* * *

Irik was sitting in his casual living area, talking to Rhaenys and Daenerys about what they had learned that day. Rhaenys, who recently had her ninth name day, was learning her numbers , as well as general information about the free cities.

Daenerys however, was only five name days old, and was learning her letters and how to read in her lessons.

Rhaenys little tangent was interrupted when one of the guards walked in with a raven scroll in his hand for Irik.

 _Forgemaster Irik._

 _His grace, King Robert Baratheon, has graciously allowed you to purchase the spoil of war, Valyrian Steel blade 'Black Fang' from himself for a sum of Two Million gold dragons. Upon completion of this purchase, the blade will be send to you by merchant ships._

 _Hand of the King, Jon Arryn._

Irik narrowed his eyes. They expected him to purchase back what it now the property of Rhaenys as his last surviving child.

Irik rolled the scroll back up and tucked it into his shirt. "Sorry Rhaenys, continue." He said smiling.

He would get the sword back. They were in for a rude awakening if they expected him to buy it back.

Irik sailed into Sunspear on one of his combat ships. He was going to collect Oberyn, go to King's Landing, kick King Bobby's ass and get back the sword. Simple enough, right?

When Irik approached the fighting pits, which is where he assumed Oberyn would be, he saw something that surprised him quite a bit.

Oberyn was there, but he was not fighting. He was teaching two younger girls with the basics of using a spear.

"Oberyn, my friend!" Irik called out, interrupting his lesson.

Oberyn spun on the balls of his feet and grinned at Irik. "Irik, what a surprise. These are my daughters, Obara and Nymeria. Girls, this is Irik, the greatest blacksmith the world has ever seen. He forged my spear." Oberyn proclaimed proudly.

Obara and Nymeria just blushed and looked anywhere but Irik, who was grinning at the pair.

"Oberyn," Irik said with the mirth fading from his eyes and being replaced by a serious demeanour. "I need your help with a slight endeavour of mine."

"Oh?" Oberyn asked curious. "What would that be?"

Irik pulled his scythe from his belt "Would you mind sparring while I explained?" He asked, to receive Oberyn's nod. As the pair started sparring against one another, Irik spoke. "When was eleven, I was experimenting on a sword I was forging, because I had a theory about how to make weapons different colours, similar to the milky pale of Dawn. What I didn't notice, was Rhaegar standing behind me while I forged. When I finished, and succeeded, I tailored Rhaegar's blade to his size and reach. Before we started, I lamented the fact that I had not yet finished my formula for my special steel, and he asked if he could help. He could. His sword was the first blade I forged out of my steel, coloured black and red with rubies at the hilt. When Rhaegar died on the trident, I was unable to reclaim his blade because I was already in Lorath. I recently traced it back to Robert Baratheon. I sent him a letter, politely asking if I could come and reclaim the blade as I was the one who forged it and it held a great sentimental value to me, similar to a child of my own loins." Irik finished as he disarmed Oberyn and held his scythe at the man's throat.

"So what is it that you need from me?" He asked curiously as he picked up his spear.

"They are allowing me to reclaim the sword, but I must buy it back for two million gold dragons." Irik finished.

Oberyn snarled in rage. He understood war spoils, but this was further. If a blade's master was slain, it went to their next of kin, lover, children or siblings. To withhold this blade from Rhaenys was tantamount to Robert proclaiming to all the realm that he didn't care about honour.

"Agreed my friend. We will go and get the blade back. "Oberyn spat in rage.

* * *

Robert stood on the balcony watching as two ships sailed into the Blackwater bay. Normally, this is a common occurrence, but these two ships scared him. Not with their appearance, mind you, but their sails.

The first was bearing the spear piercing the sun of House Martell, while the other ship carried a sail that could only mean one thing. It was a scythe crossed with a blacksmith hammer over an anvil. All silver on a black background. This could only be the blacksmith, Irik.

Robert was sitting on his throne with Jon Arryn at his side, waiting for Oberyn Martell and Irik the Blacksmith. He wouldn't lie, he was nervous. Two legendary warriors, who were likely quite mad at him, were about to enter his throne room.

When the doors opened, two men, and three young girls entered the throne room.

The first man was Oberyn Martell. Tanned skin, black hair and strong jaw with his long spear on his back. All three of the girls resembled him, but two were obviously his daughters.

The second man had an appearance that shocked Robert. He was expecting a rather plain man, with brown hair, brown eyes and regular features. He was wrong. The man had smooth black hair down past his shoulders with bright violet eyes. His jaw was strong and his cheeks high. He stood at six foot six with a build of speed and strength, while his eyes showed his creativity and intelligence. The man looked regal and powerful, despite his youthful age of nineteen name days. The man's iconic scythe strapped to his back, looking glorious despite the fact it was not in its full size.

"King Bob." The man he assumed to be the blacksmith Irik spoke with a tilt of his head. In one had he held a scroll of parchment, and the other held the hand of one of the three young girls.

Robert's eyes narrowed at the sign of disrespect. "Blacksmith, Viper. What can I do for you?" He nearly growled.

Oberyn smirked, and Irik smiled slightly, as if Robert was a child. He released the hand of the little girl who was looking around curiously, and opened the scroll.

" _Forgemaster Irik._

 _His grace, King Robert Baratheon, has graciously allowed you to purchase the spoil of war, Valyrian Steel blade 'Black Fang' from himself for a sum of Two Million gold dragons. Upon completion of this purchase, the blade will be send to you by merchant ships._

 _Hand of the King, Jon Arryn._

It seems that neither of you have any respect for laws, customs of honour. That blade was Rhaegar's blade, and now belongs to his closest family member, his daughter." Irik spoke harshly. It was easy to tell he was enraged, but barely holding it in.

Robert sneered, an ugly expression on his face, and roared "And what are you going to do about it if I don't give it back? I killed that rapist, and I'll keep his fucking sword!" Spit came flying from his mouth and splattered onto the ground.

The little girl that was holding onto Irik's hand gave Robert the strongest glare an eight year old can give.

Oberyn's eyes narrowed at Robert. "You're willing to go against thousands of years' worth of laws and customs for your petty grudge? Kings are not above laws." He spoke softly in his accented voice.

"Oh? And what will you two do if I don't return the sword of the dragoncunt? Are you going to fight me?" Robert snarled in rage, ignoring his hand trying to stop his rage. These cunts dare try to reclaim HIS war spoil? He would crush them with his hammer and take their weapons too.

Robert climbed to his feet and grabbed the handle of the war hammer at the side of his throne. Irik grabbed the scythe attached to his back and slid it out into full size while Oberyn pulled his spear from his back and the two took positions in front of the young girls.

"Enough! This childish is getting us nowhere. I will not give you two million gold dragons, but instead I will craft you a hammer in return for the sword. Do you accept?" Irik began with a roar, and finished calmly.

The heavy hammer thudded onto the ground as Robert sat back into his throne and nodded.

Irik nodded and placed his scythe against his back once more, "I assume you would like it in the colours of House Baratheon?" Irik questioned and received a nod. "Would you like it to have a spike, or both sides to be for bashing and crushing?" Irik asked once more.

Robert rubbed his chin and replied "No spike, just for bashing and crushing."

"Very well. I suppose I will have to reacquaint myself with my old forge, eh?" Irik jokes, causing a laugh from Oberyn.

As the group of Irik, Oberyn, and the three young girls left the room, Jon Arryn wiped the sweat from his head. "Bloody hell." He muttered.

* * *

Two days later, Irik and Oberyn were entering the throne room with the war hammer for King Robert in exchange for Rhaegar's sword.

Once again, it was just Robert, Jon, Oberyn and Irik in the throne room. Irik was holding a long wood box, while Jon was holding a black scabbard.

Without a word, Irik approached the throne and opened the box. Inside was the war hammer. The shaft was five feet long, of a wood that had been dyed yellow while the steel wrapping around it and the head of the hammer was black.

Roberts eyes lit up at the sight of the hammer, it was beautiful.

Jon handed the scabbard to Irik, who checked that it was Rhaegar's blade, and left the room. All without saying a word.

Well he intended to leave anyway. A messenger entered the throne room and said to Jon and the King, ignoring Irik and Oberyn "Lannisport is burning!"

* * *

 **Yes, I suppose I left this open for chapter three. I enjoyed writing this, but I felt like I just did terrible. Please tell me i'm good at this.**


	3. AN

So. Hey. I know, it has been a long time since I have updated any of my stories and i'm sorry about that. I'd like to take a few minutes to explain why I have not been as active.

The first thing I'd like to explain, is why I have not posted anything. New story wise, is not for a lack of idea's, instead it is how to execute them in a way that I don't screw myself if I decide to write more, like I have for the all of my others. If you read all the posts I have past one chapter, there is a noticeable decline in the quality of my writings, so I have spent a lot of time trying to find a way to maintain a high quality, but i'm really struggling with it. Adding new chapters, is very much the same. If I don't like what I have written, I won't upload it, and after over 6 month's of trying to write a new chapter for Titan of Space, and hating everything i'v written, it's clearly not gonna happen. Sorry.

The second thing is what kind of things i'm going to try and write in the future. I have been spending a lot of time on World of Warcraft these last few weeks and I adore the lore and universe it is written in. In my opinion, it offers an even better sandbox than Harry Potter and Naruto, and far, far superior to Percy Jackson. I am trying to learn more about the lore and timeline, so that I can write an epic tale for WoW. This is something that I feel the WoW fandom really needs, since there is only one long story that is well-written, in my own opinion, and that is 'Defying Death', written by Melkor's Mercy. This is not including crossovers, mind you, as Wizard Runemaster is also an incredible story. Sorry, got off topic a bit. In future, I want to write an incredible story, both in length and quality, that doesn't come off as a clone of Defying Death. I would love someone to bounce idea's off for this story, and if you would like to get in touch, throw me a message.

The final thing I would like to mention, is my available time. I have a lot of it. I work around 30 hours a week, and other than that I play WoW and Hearthstone. However, I do struggle to motivate myself to write. As much as I would love to be able to throw a few hours per day at writing, it is something I really struggle with doing.

Thank you for reading this, and if you have made it through this entire thing, good on ya.


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